


Pretty Boys Don't Do Well in Prison

by ChokolatteJedi



Series: In Prison Verse [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pre-Series, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 12:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2652518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChokolatteJedi/pseuds/ChokolatteJedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal knew this, and he had a plan</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Boys Don't Do Well in Prison

Pretty boys don't do well in prison.

Neal knew this, and while it hadn't been at the forefront of his mind during those years on the run, it certainly had provided an extra bit of motivation. Once Peter caught him, it moved a little closer to the forefront of his mind. But, Neal knew, there were ways around that. There was always a way around _anything._

His single phone call was to Moz, and aside from the instruction to find him a lawyer willing to show up in court, there was a second request – find out who they knew.

And, as it turned out, they knew a lot more than Neal had expected, including one guard. The guard was only the appetizer – Neal could charm any guard he wanted, at least for the things that they controlled, like single-occupancy cells and amenities. But guards, despite their belief to the contrary, did not control the convicts. For that, Neal would need a cellblock kingpin. And as it turned out, he and Moz knew _two_.

Frank Hodges – a friend of a friend of Mozzie's – had only a year left on his dime, with the possibility of a commutation sooner for good behavior. He would be gone too soon for Neal's comfort – or survival.

Their second option knew Neal personally, and had six more years before he was even eligible for parole. He was older, the kind of man that younger prisoners would respect and obey, and he was a white collar criminal, which also afforded him respect in the prison hierarchy. In other words, he was perfect.

And so, his first night in gen pop, Neal immediately made his way to the table where Daniel Dawes, fence and information clearinghouse extraordinaire, held court. As soon as Daniel saw him, Neal gave a half bow.

"Neal?" Daniel practically choked on his water. "Neal? 'S'at you?"

"I'm afraid so, Daniel," Neal flashed him a rueful smile, noticing and cataloging the attention their conversation was getting at other tables.

"M?" Daniel quickly asked, glancing around as though expecting Mozzie to pop out from behind another convict.

"He's fine!" Neal reassured him quickly. "He's a little pissed that my arrest cut short his vacation, but other than that…" he shrugged in a 'you know Mozzie' way.

"He finally go to Bermuda?" Daniel asked with a knowing grin.

"Well he had to see the Triangle for himself!" Neal confirmed.

Daniel let out a large burst of laughter and Neal was peripherally aware of the increased chatter from the other convicts viewing their show. "Oh man, he would!" Daniel finally managed to say. "Sit! Sit!" He gestured at the place directly across from himself, and Neal felt relief wash over him. That was a seat of high honor in a prison court, second only to the guards who flanked their King.

As Neal gracefully took his place, Daniel turned to the rest of the table. "Boys, this is the silver-tongued legend himself, Neal Caffrey…"

oOo

For almost four years, Neal had done his part. He sweet-talked the guards into anything that he or Daniel needed. He forged notes from the infirmary to give them lighter work duties and he ran a nice side business creating sketches for convicts who wanted to send presents to those on the outside. Daniel got a cut, of course. In return, he received a goon squad protector of his own and a virtual guarantee of safety anywhere he went on B Block.

Non-violent White Collar criminals like Neal rarely went to Supermax, and it was mostly his talent as an escape artist that had landed him in the stricter facility. However, it wasn't without its perks – relatively speaking. Money was everything to criminals, and as a thief, Neal enjoyed a certain status amongst other convicts. His skills as an artist and forger were also well respected, not to mention useful.

Neal had a nice cell to himself, and as one of the calmer convicts, the friendly tolerance of almost every guard. Compared to those who made shivs and screamed obscenities at the guards, Neal's polite requests for another charcoal pencil or five more minutes of lamp time were almost always granted.

No, the guards were never a problem.

And of course, Martin, his hulking protector, was just two cells down, keeping any other problems at bay.

So while it was no Cote D'Azure, Neal's first stint in prison was relatively comfortable.

oOo

Daniel knew he was going. It had been hard to avoid questions about his sudden change of appearance, and while others accepted a bright smile and a flippant, "felt like a change," Daniel had given him the look.

Neal was cautious – just because he was a trusted member of Daniel's prison crew didn't mean that the kingpin's self-preservation wouldn’t win out. So Neal told Daniel about Kate's goodbye, and then lied through his teeth about how long it would take to pull off his carefully unspecified plan.

Daniel thought he was crazy for taking the risk of a jackrabbit so close to his release date, but he didn't argue or hamper Neal's plans at all. Neal knew, though he didn't confront the other man, that if Neal was caught, and his sentence extended, that it would only extend his usefulness to Daniel. Daniel wasn't the sort to help, but he also wasn't the sort to sell him out.

And so, as Neal strode out of the prison, walking neither quickly nor slowly, he exchanged a nod with Daniel and Martin. It was a goodbye and also a promise, and they kept it as Neal stepped out into the brisk air without an alarm.

oOo

Within a day, Neal was back in his cell, having flashed a falsely cheerful smile at Martin as he passed. And other than his own deep-hidden pain and frustration, nothing changed. The next day he followed the same routine as he had two days previous, and with the exception of a few awed questions at lunch, the whole incident appeared to be forgotten.

Until he received his second visit from Agent Peter Burke.

And so, on the date of his original release, Neal once again strode out of prison. But this time, he knew, there could be no going back.

Pretty boys may not do well in prison, but rats did even worse.


End file.
